


Winter's Wizard

by peculiarmars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Harry, Auror Ron, Brainwashing, Curse Breaker Blaise Zabini, Ministry Agent Pansy Parkinson, Ministry Worker Hermione, Multi, PTSD, Post War, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Torture, Winter Soldier AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-08 16:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11085444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarmars/pseuds/peculiarmars
Summary: Seven years after the war, Harry Potter thinks that nothing in this Voldemort-free world can make his blood run cold. Until he is forced to team up with Special Agent Parkinson and Curse-Breaker Zabini to take down a new threat; a mysterious masked assassin known as the Winter Wizard, and forced to come to the realisation that the war is far from over.*Discontinued.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes for this fic:  
> I will not be updating this as often as I'm updating the When you break series  
> this fic will not be updated very often at all, only when I get the chance  
> this fic will not follow the plot of CA:TWS to a T, however im going to make it as accurate as possible,  
> this is a roughish draft so I might have to occasionally go back and change something  
> please leave comments or kudos if you like the start of this fic

_"Harry Potter, the boy who lived, come to die?" Hagrid's horror._

 

_"Avada Kedavra!" Sirius falling into the veil._

 

_"Severus, please?" Severus Snape, striking out with a flash of green, Dumbledore falling over the edge of the astronomy tower._

 

_Flashes of green, screamed curses, and pain pain pain-_

 

_"No, not Harry!" Voldemort striking out at Lily Potter, the killing curse ending her life instantly. Voldemort pointing his wand at Harry, uttering the killing curse-_

 

Harry jerked awake with a start, a scream caught in his throat. He fumbled around his bedside cabinet until he found his glasses, turning his lamp on as he did. He blearily looked at his alarm clock. It read 5:38AM. Sunlight had just started seeping through the curtains. He groaned quietly. He had barely been asleep for four hours. He flopped back down onto his mattress with a loud sigh, more of a grunt.

 

Knowing he was getting no more sleep tonight, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He ignored how his hands shook as he grabbed the bottle of water from where it had fallen to his floor and gulped down half of it in one go. It was Sunday, his day off. He had no paper work to complete, nothing inside Grimmauld to Distract him. Maybe some letters, but they never seemed to distract him like paperwork could. He scratched his arm. The air in his room was too hot, it felt like it was partially suffocating him. Knowing that he needed to get out of the house, he threw on some clothes and decided to go for an early morning jog.

　

Running had been a surprising outlet for his fear. And his fury. Whenever he woke from nightmares, which was painfully often, he would go for a jog. It was a way to realise all that pent up emotion in a healthy way. That's what Healer Wentworth said, anyway. His feet thudded into the concrete as he jogged around his normal route. The sun was halfway up, and the air had a chill to it, but wasn't cold or miserable like the winter months. 

 

He had expected to be alone this early, but was surprised to see one other man running down his normal route. The man was a few yards ahead of Harry, but he surpassed him easily.

 

"On your left," He quipped as he raced past. He overtook the man twice more before stopping, resting against a tree, fully spent.

 

"Merlin's beard, you're fast, Potter, I'll give you that." He turned to face someone he had not seen since he was eighteen.

 

"Blaise Zabini, good to formally meet you." He held out a hand, and Harry shook it, feeling slightly unsure of what to say next. He needn't have worried, Blaise seemed determined to carry on this conversation himself. "Heard you're an Auror now?" The Italian asked.

 

"Yeah," Harry said distantly. More people were starting to file into the area.

 

"Any good?" Harry stood up straighter.

 

"I'd say so. So, uh, what do you do now?"

 

Blaise grinned. "Me? I'm a curse breaker. Mainly work from home. It's easy stuff when you get the hang of it."

 

"Curse breaking? Isn't that supposed to be difficult as hell?" Harry recalled a conversation with Bill at the Leakey one night, when Harry had been choosing what he wanted to do with his Voldemort-free life. Bill had told him that it certainly wasn't easy, and there were moments when time seemed to slow, waiting for the curse to break all or for all hell to break loose.

 

"Like I said, easy stuff when you get the hang of it. Bill says hi, by the way."

 

Harry blinked. "You know Bill Weasley?" Blaise rolled his eyes.

 

"Oh yeah, he's only the head of the department. I had an apprenticeship under him."

 

"Ah, yeah, of course he is."

 

Blaise clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Listen, Potter, we're not exactly friends, but if you want a drink sometime, I know some real expensive bars."

 

Harry considered this. On one hand, he didn't know Blaise Zabini. The most early memories he had of him were of the Italian throwing insults around with the rest of the Slytherins, mostly Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy. On the other hand, if he learned under Bill Weasley, then he mustn't be that bad. Bill had never mentioned him, and Harry supposed that was because he had simply never asked. They had made a silent agreement to never mention each others work.

 

"You know what, I might just take you up on that offer someday."

 

Blaise grinned again, but whatever he had to say was cut off by Harry's mobile phone buzzing loudly in his pocket. He mouthed a sorry to Blaise as he answered.

 

"Hey, Ron, what is it?"

 

"Kingsley wants us in, Harry. Says it's an emergency. A drop-everything-and-run emergency. Don't know what it's about. Meet you in the ministry, ten minutes. See you!" Ron hung up before he even had the chance to get a word in edge wise. He sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

 

"Duty calls?" Blaise teased.

 

"An emergency, apparently. Knowing the Ministry, they probably lost a pen or something."

 

Blaise chuckled at his weak attempt at humour. "See you around, Potter."

 

"See you, Zabini." Harry apparated with a crack.

　

* * *

 

 

The Ministry was teeming. That was the only way Harry could describe it. Wizards of all age and gender shoved by, all too engrossed in their own worlds to mutter an 'excuse me'. However, being Harry Potter, a few wizards stopped to stare at him, and nudge the person next to them, pointing. Harry had been dealing with this since he was eleven, and although he had learned to live with it, it didn't make it any less frustrating.

 

He managed to push his way to the Auror department, where he checked in without minimal fuss. The receptionist, Angelica, saw Harry everyday, and although she had been slightly star struck at first - much to Harry's annoyance - she had gradually got used to seeing the Boy Who Lived almost everyday. She gave him a small smile. Harry returned it.

 

He walked into the briefing room, pulling out seat next to Ron. Ron pushed a coffee cup towards him. "No idea what this is about," He muttered, "I was supposed to go for an Ultrasound scan with 'Mione, today. Kingsley better have a good reason for dragging us all in." Harry took a sip. It was black, no sugar, like he liked it.

 

Kingsley Shaklebolt choose that moment to enter, followed by a woman who Harry was sure he had seen before. The woman's hair was black, and went down to her shoulders. Harry studied her face. The woman was pretty, with sharp black eyes, but that wasn't why Harry was so interested in her. He was certain he knew that face from somewhere.

 

"Aurors, I apologise for dragging you all in at such short notice. However, this is urgent. Ms Parkinson." _Parkinson?_ That woman was _Pansy Parkinson?_ He seemed to be a magnet for former Slytherins today. Kingsley gestured at Parkinson, and she stepped forward, scanning the room once with her eyes before speaking..

 

"I'm starting this meeting by saying that nothing that we discuss here ever, and I mean ever, makes it past these four walls. Not even with your partners. Not even in a life or death situation. If it does, well, lets just say that something not-so-nice will happen to you." Pansy Parkinson smiled grimly. She looked different to how she had in school. Her face was harder, lined with years of struggle and mourning. The sneer was still on her face, but it was more threatening to how it had been when they were teenagers. Harry leaned forward in his seat.

 

"This morning, a wizarding platoon was ambushed whilst travelling from Russia to England, and is being held hostage with muggles aboard a muggle ship in the Atlantic. We have identified one of the captors to be Corban Yaxley, a prominent Death Eater during the war who the Ministry lost track of. We believe that he may have recruited other foreign wizards. The people in this room are the rescue team, led by Harry Potter and Adrian Pucey. Potter, Pucey, stay behind. The rest of you, gear up. We're leaving in two hours." Parkinson ordered. The other Aurors filed out silently, leaving Harry and Adrian Pucey with Parkinson and Shaklebolt. Ron gave Harry a look that said 'good luck' as he closed the door behind him.

 

Adrian Pucey and Harry Potter got along well. Although he remembered the man occasionally spitting out an insult to him when at school, Pucey had stayed out of the war and was a good Auror. He and Harry led the strike teams. He had even gone with Pucey for a drink last Christmas Eve.

 

Pansy raked her eyes over them both. "Among the captured are Theodore Nott, Astoria Greengrass, Hannah Abbot, Marcus Flint and Ernie MacMillan. Pucey, you will lead the other Aurors, whilst Potter and I find and secure Yaxley. Do not go communications silent. Potter, you'll need the shield. Gear up." Pansy's heels clicked on the floor as she exited with Kingsley, leaving Pucey and Harry to roll their eyes.

 

"What does she even do?" Pucey asked as they headed towards the floo.

 

"I don't know, mate. I've seen her at a couple of ministry meetings, and I heard she goes abroad a lot."

 

"Probably spies, she was great at that in school. It's how she started all those rumours."

 

Harry chuckled, no longer feeling anger over petty schoolyard fights. "I remember those, she really did come up with some interesting stuff."

 

Adrian threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, yelling a goodbye over his shoulder as he vanished into a green flame. Harry grabbed his own powder, stepping into the fireplace and yelling for Grimmauld Palace before feeling wave of heat roll over him.

 

Harry stepped out of the floo, dusting himself off. His owl, Dragon, was perched in the back of one of the dining room chairs.

 

"Hey, Dragon." He cooed softly as she pecked his fingers, chirping. He glanced at the unanswered mail she had brought. He decided to open it all later. It wouldn't be too urgent.

 

Leaving Dragon alone in the dining room, Harry trudged upstairs and rummaged around in his wardrobe for his strike gear. He grabbed the black, leather robes and stripped in the middle of his bedroom, slipping the silky robes over his shoulders. He then reached under his bed, pulling out a al box. He muttered the password and the box lock sprang open, allowing Harry to pull out the shield inside.

 

The shield was made of steel, and enforced with ancient magic, so that it could never break. It was round, four bands of colour circling the Hogwarts logo decorated in the middle. Red for Gryffindor, blue for Ravenclaw, yellow for Hufflepuff and green for Slytherin. The Hogwarts motto " _Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus_ " was written Gryffindor red, the first band of colour.

 

Minerva McGonagall, current Headmistress of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, had awarded the shield to Harry on the first anniversary of the war. Harry had been reluctant to accept it, but his former professor wouldn't take no for an answer.

 

Harry had used the shield in combat many times over the years, deflecting spells when he didn't have time to put up a shielding charm, throwing it to injure an attacker. It came in very useful.

 

Harry still had almost an hour and a half to kill, so went around to answering some of the letters Dragon had brought in. He picked one up from the pile, instantly recognising the official St Mungos seal.

 

_Dear Mr Potter,_

 

_We would like to thank you for the outstanding support you have shown for Narcissa Malfoy. It is not often we have such a charismatic young man visit our patients. The staff at St Mungos would say that you never fail to put a smile on their faces. We are also writing to thank you for the large sums of money you have donated over the years. The mental health department would not be the same without your kindness,_

 

_Sincerely,_

 

_Head Healer, Madame 'Poppy' Pomfrey_

 

Harry sighed, pushing the letter aside, not knowing how to respond. His chest ached with guilt whenever he thought of the last remaning Malfoy. He and Draco had had something in their fifth year, and now there was nothing.

 

He couldn't even remember who his 'thing' with Draco had started. He and Malfoy had been fighting in an empty corridor, both snarling and shoving each other. Until one of them clashed their lips together and they ended up snogging in the middle of the corridor.

 

"What was that?" He had gasped when they broke apart. Draco just smirked before sauntering off.

 

"I have absolutely no idea, but I hope it happens again."

 

And it did. Throughout fifth year, whilst Harry was organising the DA or avoiding Umbridge, he and Malfoy would meet somewhere quiet. They would kiss, and touch and sometimes talk. Ron and Hermione eventually found out, and Harry thought they'd hate him. They didn't. The only downside to them knowing was that Ron made some frankly terrible jokes.

 

This went on until April, until that horrific train ride. Even now, Harry had to collapse into a chair just thinking about it. The train ride had been taking students back to Hogwarts after the Easter holidays. Harry had stayed with Ron at the Burrow, so he had been on the train. The ride had started out as normal. He had been excited about going back to Hogwarts, about seeing Draco.

 

And then they had heard the screaming.

 

Death Eaters had come aboard the train, and were hunting down students at random. First and second years were dragged from their carriages, kicking and screaming. The elder years had raised their wands, ready to defend against these monstrous beings that had the audacity to call themselves wizards. The memory had stunning one, only to reveal Draco being dragged into a carriage with a wand at his throat, had burned its way into Harry's mind. Harry had leapt after Draco, ignoring the shrieks of his friends, he raised his wand -

 

But the Death Eater already raised his own. He blasted a spell at Draco, who flew backwards, disappearing into the smoke which had quickly engulfed the carriage. Harry stunned the Death Eater. He had stumbled forward, reaching for Draco through the smoke. His hands met thin air.

 

The spell the Death Eater had thrown at Draco had blown a hole in the side of the train. Harry had fallen to his knees, catching sight of a familiar white-blond head. Draco was clinging to the side of the train by his fingertips.

 

"Draco!" Harry had yelled, reaching towards him. Draco stretched out a hand, and their fingertips brushed -

 

\- And then the train jolted and Draco lost his grip. Harry screamed, watching as Draco, with his hand still outstretched, got smaller and smaller until he no longer could be seen. Harry didn't know how long he knelt with his hand outstretched, screaming Draco's name. He wanted it to be a nightmare; a terrifyingly realistic nightmare, wanted Draco to appear at any moment. But Draco never reappeared.

 

They had never even recovered his body. Aurors had searched, and after four months pronounced him dead. Two months later Lucius Malfoy was murdered and Narcissa Malfoy was Crucio'd to insanity in Malfoy Manor. 

 

This thing Harry had with Narcissa was guilt, he couldn't even deny it. He visited her, sometimes she knew who he was and sometimes he didn't. Draco must of said something about the thing they had, because Narcissa would sometimes murmur something and the saviour bringing her boy home. Sometimes Harry was glad she forgot his last visit, because then he didn't have to see that crushing look on her face when he walked in alone.

 

Pushing all thoughts of Narcissa Malfoy out of his head, Harry patted Dragon on the head, and threw some floo powder into his fireplace.

 

"Ministry of Magic" He shouted as the green flame engulfed him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment or kudos if you're interested in this!

Harry wiped imaginery dirt off of his shield. Ron rolled his eyes at him.

 

"You're gonna scrub the paint off of that if you keep doing that." The plane jolted. Shacklebolt had decided that traveling the muggle way was more sensible, as there was no chance Yaxley or his men could trace Apparation magic.

 

"Haha. What happened to Hermione's ultrasound?" He said as he checked his knives. Shiny and sharp. Just the way he liked them.

 

"Rescheduled it for next week. 'Mione was a bit grumpy about it. I thought it was because of hormones. She threw a bra at me." Ron chuckled.

 

Adrian came to stand next to them. "Congratulations, Weasley." He said, clapping him on the shoulder. Ron grinned.

 

"Thanks, Pucey." Ron and Adrian started talking, whether it was about babies or quidditch Harry didn't know. He wasn't listening.

 

"You got anything planned for this Saturday?" A voice said from behind him. Harry turned to find himself inches from Pansy's face.

 

"Well, all my friends are getting married and having kids, so no."

 

Pansy crossed her arms, staring at him. "You know, if you asked out that receptionist, she'd probably say yes." Pansy gripped the metal bars on the walls of the plane as the ramp started to open.

 

"Yeah, that's why I don't ask," Harry said, making his way over to the ramp. He crouched down, waiting for the perfect second to make the jump.

 

"Too shy or scared?" Pansy called.

 

"Too busy!" He yelled as he leapt out of the plane.

 

Pansy leaned towards Weasley, who was standing next to her. "He didn't take a broom. Was he wearing a parachute?"

 

"No," Ron said, shaking his head fondly. "no he wasn't."

* * *

 

 

Harry dived from the plane, diving headfirst into the water beneath him. The shield took the brunt of the force as he plunged headfirst into the icy water of the Atlantic ocean.

 

The ship was anchored, and he clipped the shield to his back as he silently shimmied up the chain, pausing every few seconds to listen out for potential attackers. He scrambled over the railed, ducking when he saw a flash of red shoot towards him. He grabbed his shield from his back as another red bolt shot towards him, and then a flash of green. He slipped his wand from the holster on his waist, and fired a Stupefy, smiling to himself when he heard the thud of a body.

 

However, he couldn't smile for long. Another man came running at him, and he got a face full of metal for his troubles. Another two men rushed at him from either side, and he threw a Stupefy at one and kicked the other in the chest, sending him falling back. He Stupefied him for good measure.

 

From the corner of his eye he saw a hand reach up to an alarm button, near the entrance door to the below decks. With an expert aim, Harry threw a knife towards him. It hit the man in the back of his hand, sending him to the floor with a scream. Harry cast the Stupefying spell again.

 

He heard a heavy booted stomp behind him, and before he could move felt something hard poke into his back. He knew without turning that it was a gun.

 

 _"Eh bien, qu'est-ce que nous-"_ and then the voice behind him was cut off as Ron and Adrian descended silently on their brooms. Pansy and the rest of the strike team dropped down just as quietly.

 

"Thanks," He said to Adrian, who had stunned the French man.

 

"No problem, you seemed pretty helpless without me." Adrian said, before giving out orders to the rest of the team. Harry began to make his way to across the ship, where he would be looking for Yaxley. Ron, Adrian, and the rest of the strike team disappeared below decks as they went to find the hostages. Pansy walked silently alongside Harry. Come to think of it, Harry wasn't quite sure what Pansy's job on this mission actually was. He assumed she was hear to help with hostages. Kingsley hadn't told him otherwise.

 

"What about that Auror, one with the tattoos? Claire, isn't it?" She asked. Harry groaned quietly.

 

"Do your job, then find me a date."

 

"I'm multitasking!" And then Pansy jumped over the railings and vanished.

 

Harry silently climbed up the railing next to him, looking through the glass in the control room windows. He squinted his eyes, making out the shape of a man standing, hunched over the controls. Another man appeared from the shadows, handing something to the man on the controls.

 

Harry squinted. He had just found Yaxley, he was sure of it. He climbed up the railing next to him, holding his shield like a frisbee, waiting for the say so by Adrian.

 

"In position." He said into his earpiece.

* * *

 

 

Theodore Nott cursed the day he had decided to become a ministry agent. He had been trying to clear his family name after the war, but now he was going to die by a lunatic with a bullet. He glanced up as a shaky looking Ernie MacMillan was dragged back inside.

 

"Hey," The gun-weilding muggle thug kicked his feet. "stop looking, or you get a bullet in your head!" He snarled. Theo knew the man was Russian, but other than that knew nothing about him. Hannah Abbot let out a whimper. Theo felt sorry for her; Abbot wasn't one of the agents sent to do the dirty work like he was. She was just a field agent, more of a ministry worker than anything else.

 

He, and a few of the more braver agents, had tried to tell the Russian nutjob that the ministry wouldn't negotiate. The nutjob hadn't listened.

* * *

 

 

"In position?" Adrian asked through his earpiece as Ron battled the lock in the door. Ron snapped three of the wires, and the light above the door turned from red to green.

 

"Holding position," The rest of the strike team chirped back.

 

"Three...Two...One!" He counted, kicking the door open and stunning the muggle thug on the other side. Ron checked for any other captors, but they were alone.

 

Theodore Nott stared down at the immobile muggle's body.

 

"I told him; the ministry doesn't negotiate."

* * *

 

  
 Harry tossed his shield, hitting the unidentified man in the back. He went down instantly, and Harry used his magic to guide the shield to hit a stunned looking Yaxley in the chest.

 

Harry scrambled up the railing and carefully climbed through the broken window, avoiding the sharp pieces of broken glass. He stared down at Yaxley's body, looking so much more aged than he had during the war. His hair had lost it's brown colour, and now was almost completely grey. Harry picked up his shield from his chest.

 

"We'll this is awkward," Pansy said, as she leaned over the other side of the control panel. From this angle Harry couldn't see what she was doing exactly, but he saw that she had a flashdrive plugged into the panel.

 

Harry stepped over Yaxley.

 

"What in merlins name are you doing?" He said, looking over at the flashdrive. A small screen was lit up, and across it it said:

 

_Ministry files: Transporting Backup files_

 

"You're supposed to be doing your job!" Harry hissed.

 

"I am doing my job, honey,"

 

"Our job is to rescue hostages!"

 

Pansy sighed. "No, that's your job,"

 

A muffled groan from in front of them was all the warning they got before the man who Harry had knocked down first leapt up, a gun in his head. Harry threw up his shield, grabbing Pansy by her waist and leaping across the control panels. Pansy unclipped a grenade from her belt and tossed it behind her, shooting the glass out of a window which she and Harry dove into. They pressed themselves flat against the wall as the grenade enterupted behind them, sending a flurry of glass over them.

 

"Okay, that one was on me," Pansy said, peeling her eyes open.

 

"You're damn right," Harry said angrily, pulling himself up.

* * *

 

 

Harry stormed through the ministry; for once not noticing the looks sent his way. Even if he wasn't Harry Potter, people would still feel apprehensive about walking next to someone who was dressed in combat and armed to the teeth.

 

Harry gave Angelica a flirty smile.

 

"Hey, Angelica, is Shaklebolt in?"

 

Angelica smiled back nervously, tapping something into her computer. Harry was glad the ministry had finally started using more muggle technology.

 

"Oh, yes, Mr Shaklebolt is in his office. Shall I tell him you're on your way up?"

 

"Nah, I'll surprise him. Thank you, Angelica." He said calmly. Angelica smiled after him as he got into the lift, pressing the button for the fifth floor of the ministry. Harry remained calm until he burst into Shaklebolt's office.

 

"You just can't stop yourself from lying, can you?" He snarled, stalking towards Shaklebolt. Shaklebolt swiveled in his chair to face Harry.

 

"I wasn't lying. Parkinson had a different mission than the rest of you."

 

"Which you didn't tell me about?"

 

"I'm not obliged to tell you about anything."

 

"Those hostages could have died, Kingsley!"

 

Shaklebolt leaned back in his chair. "I sent my best men, and the boy who lived, to make sure that didn't happen."

 

"We're supposed to trust each other, that's what makes it an army. Not a bunch of wizards running around firing Avada Kedavra's!" Harry argued.

 

"Look, I didn't want you doing anything you weren't comfortable with. Parkinson is comfortable with everything."

 

"What does Parkinson even do? She shows up out of the blue, and suddenly she's leading missions of her own whilst I'm trying to do my job."

 

Kingsley sighed tiredly. "Parkinson is part of a special branch of agents. When we have troubles with no end in sight, we send in someone from her branch in. That's why she's so comfortable with everything."

 

Harry huffed. "Look, I can't lead a mission if people I'm leading have missions of their own."

 

"It's called compartmentalization. Nobody spills the secrets, because nobody knows them."

 

"Except you."

 

"You're wrong about me, Potter. I do share. I'm nice like that."

 

Harry rolled his eyes angrily. His hands curled into fists as he stormed out of Shaklebolt's office.

 

Shaklebolt waited until Potter was gone, before standing from his chair.

 

"Angelica, get Potter back up here. I have something to show him."

* * *

 

 

"I thought elevators were supposed to play music." Harry commented. Shaklebolt had called him into his office, telling him he had something Harry needed to see. Harry hoped it wouldn't take too long, he was supposed to visit Narcissa today, and wanted to pop in to say hello to Hermione.

 

"Oh, they did, back in the day."

 

"Why don't they anymore?" It would be a lot less awkward, as then Harry could at pretend to be focused on something else.

 

"I believe it's supposed to get people to talk to each other." Shaklebolt said with a grim smile.

 

Harry nodded. "That plan went down the shitter." Shaklebolt chuckled.

 

They stepped out of the elevator at floor minus one. Harry was confused. He didn't even know the ministry had floors in minus numbers. He looked questionably at Shaklebolt.

 

"Only people with the highest security clearing get to go down to this floor."

 

Harry and Shaklebolt stepped out of the elevator, and Harry let out a gasp at what he was seeing. Great metal ships, three of them, lined up. They were huge, almost the same size as the boat the hostages had been kept on. Harry could see that they weren't designed to float in water, no, these ships had huge propellers.

 

"These things fly?" He asked. Shaklebolt nodded.

 

"We had some help from a few people you might know. Arthur Weasley helped with some of the blueprints, they're largely based on muggle planes. Gregory Goyle is head of construction."

 

Harry's wonder faded as he noticed the large guns on the side of the ships. "What are you planning on using them for?" He asked apprehensively.

 

Shaklebolt didn't seemed to notice his apprehensiveness. "To make peace. We call them helicarriers."

 

Harry furrowed his eyebrows "What do you mean by 'make peace'?" He asked with air quotes.

 

"This machines know everything about every wizard in every country. Terroists are getting smarter, Potter, you can't deny this. As soon as they sense a threat, these helicarriers will get rid of it. They'll stop wars before they even start."

 

"I thought the punishment came after the crime." Harry said with thinly veiled anger.

 

"It used to, but times change. Nobody wants another Voldemort, Potter," Shaklebolt said in a low tone. Harry wasn't sure what to say to that.

 

"I have a meeting with a friend. I have to go."

 

Shaklebolt stared after Harry as he went, a pensive look on his face.

* * *

 Alone in his office, Shaklebolt waved his wand. "Accio files on Project Insight." Nothing happened.

 

 _Access Denied_ floated from his wand. Shaklebolt frowned.

 

"Minister override, Shaklebolt Kingsley" He waited a few seconds.

 

 _Override denied_ floated from his wand.

 

"On whose authority?"

 

_Shaklebolt, Kingsley_

* * *

 

Shaklebolt took the elevator up to the second floor of the ministry. Pausing when he heard parts of a conversation going on inside.

 

"Really?" He heard Alistair Pryor say. Alistair Pryor was a good man, a close friend of Kingsley's. Alistair worked in the foreign agency department. "You think that's a good idea?"

 

"Sorry if some of us take piracy very seriously."Minerva McGonagall said.

 

"I agree with McGonagall. This happened far too close to my border." Karkaroff said.

 

"I don't trust Minister Shaklebolt with this. The whole situation surrounding the hostages comes off as suspicious. How did one wizard and a few muggles overpower an entire platoon of agents?"

 

"What? Are you saying that Minister Shaklebolt hired Yaxley to take his own men hostage? Is that what kind of man you think he is?"

 

"The evidence adds up, you can't deny it, Pryor, no matter how blinded you are."

 

"Well, I'll put it through, but don't get mad when nothing comes out of it." Alistair said. He ended the firecall and then gestured for Shaklebolt to enter.

 

"Tough day in hell?" Shaklebolt guessed. Alistair handed him a glass of champagne. He clinked their glasses together.

 

"To the freedom of the world," Alistair joked. "why are you here, anyway, Minister. It's not like you to drop by unannounced."

 

"Can't I visit a friend without a reason to?"

 

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "I work three floors over and it takes the threat of war to get a visit? My my, Minister, don't stretch yourself."

 

Shaklebolt grimaced, setting his glass down on Alistair's desk.

 

"We need to put project insight at hold. Immediately."

 

Alistair downed his drink. "May I ask why?"

 

"Something happened. It might be nothing, but it might be something. Let's just say, if it _is_ something you'll be damned grateful that those helicarriers aren't in the air." Shaklebolt turned to leave.

 

"And you be careful out there, Kingsley, I've heard what they're saying, and it's not pretty!" Alistair called after him.

 

Unseen to Kinglsey, Alistair smirked.

* * *

 

 

Far away, the soldier was awakened from his cold slumber. Dressed in his finery and given a weapon and a target, in a routine that was familiar and not, the soldier was given a mission.

 

Not one of the other people told him, but he knew the promise of pain if he failed.

 

* * *

 

　

 

Kingsley sighed. He was stuck in muggle traffic, going over Westminster bridge. Why he had decided to drive the muggle way and not simply floo home was beyond him. A muggle police car pulled up beside him. The two men in the front seats stared up at Kingsley.

 

"You wanna see my lease?" He grumbled through the open window. The two men glared at him.

 

The traffic in front of him cleared, and he turned, leaving the bridge behind him. A police car, identical to the one moments earlier, slammed into the side of his van. Kingsley swore.

 

Another car smashed into his other side, and he found himself being driven off the road.

 

He swerved, narrowly missing muggle on the other lane, and another car slammed into his bonnet.

 

"What the _fuck_?!" He yelled. His car, which had a built in voice controller calmly spoke back.

 

"There are no muggle police in this area." Kingsley drove forward furiously.

 

"Contact Agent Pansy Parkinson and Alistair Pryor. Get Minerva McGonagall as well."

 

Another car slammed into his boot, and Kingsley was astounded by where these cars were coming from. They weren't muggle, so were they wizards in disguise? If this was an assassination attempt, it was a damn elaborate one!

 

"Pansy Parkinson is communications silent. Alistair Pryor has left the Ministry building. Minerva McGonagall is not answering." The car spoke calmly.

 

"Get me off the grid!" He yelled. The car took control of itself, slamming into one of the faux police cars, jolting Kingsley forward in his seat. This went on for ten minutes approximately, and he finally allowed himself to breathe when he left the hulking police cars on the road behind him.

 

"Unidentified potential threat ahead." Kingsley's eyes snapped forwards, and they bulged as he saw a lone figure standing in the road. They were dressed in all black, a mask covering their features, a muggle gun in their hands, unthreatened by the hulking car speeding towards them.

 

The lone figure fired, and whatever magic was in his gun made Kingsley's car flip over mid-air, the Minister still strapped into his seat.

* * *

 

 

With the grace of a cat, the soldier stepped out of the way of the oncoming car. He didn't cough as the smoke from said car engulfed him, squeezing his throat. The soldier ignored it. He had a job to do.

 

He stalked forward, a sharpened knife in his hands, and wrenched off the door of the now flipped-over car with his metal arm.

 

The car was empty. Minister Kingsley Shaklebolt was not dead.

 

_Mission Report: Failed._


	3. Chapter 3

_"Do you think we'll live to the end of the war?" Draco asked him one evening, when they were up on the astronomy tower._

 

_"You bloody well better, Draco. I'm not sneaking out every night just for you do die on me." Draco laughed at that, throwing back his head and smiling._

 

_"But seriously, Harry. Do you think we'll live?"_

 

_"I hope so,"_

 

* * *

 

 

"Hello, Narcissa," Harry greeted softly, taking Narcissa's hand. Her eyes were glazed over, and her hand twitched in his.

 

"Draco," she murmured, "always such a nice boy. Mummy's boy, that's what you are." Harry gulped, fighting to keep his tears at bay. He could face Dark Lord's without flinching, but one delirious woman could bring him to tears.

 

Harry squeezed Narcissa's hand, smiling falsly. "You're right," He murmurs. Narcissa lazily fixes her gaze on him, then coughs harshly, closing her eyes. Her whole body shakes as Harry presses a glass of water to her lips. She drinks it without complaint. When she next opens her eyes, they're wet with unshed tears.

 

"Potter," She whispers, patting his face with a shaking hand. "where's Draco?"

 

Harry's false smile flickers, falling off of his face before he rigidly fixes it back on. "He wasn't able to come today, Cissa." He says softly. Narcissa blinks at him, continuing to pat his face.

 

"Oh, you must bring him next time. I miss him." She says. Harry swallows thickly. _I miss him, too._

 

"He liked you, Harry." Narcissa whispers. "He always talked. My baby, my boy, you'll have to bring him..." And then she trails off, staring at something across the room. Harry takes this as a signal not to carry on with the conversation. He sits across from Narcissa as she stares around the room, unblinking and silent. He stays until a Healer pokes her head into the room and gently tells him that visiting hours are over.

 

* * *

 

 

He floos from St Mungos to the Burrow, and is greeted by an enthusiastic Molly Weasley.

 

"Oh, Harry! Good to see you, my boy! But you must stay for dinner! You must! I haven't seen you in weeks!" She fawns over him. Harry grins.

 

"I'd love to, Mrs Weasley." He always feels so at home with the Weasley's, it's unreal. Molly and Arthur have become his second parents.

 

"Hello, Harry. How are you, mate?" Harry turns to find Bill Weasley leaning against the doorframe, a small blonde girl in his arms.

 

"I'm good, Bill. How are you, Victorie?" Victorie smiles shyly from Bill's arms.

 

"Good. Uncle Charlie sent me a dragon scale." She says. Harry nods encouragingly.

 

"A dragon scale? Wow, that must be amazing."

 

"Do you wanna see?" She asks. Harry nods. Victorie wriggles down from Bill and runs from the room, leaving Bill staring after her fondly.

 

"She's becoming obsessed with dragons. Honestly, it's like she's a miniture Charlie."

 

Harry laughs. "And how is Fleur and the twins?"

 

Bill nods, smiling. "Both are good. We got Dom and Louis into a good daycare whilst we're working. Victorie and Teddy are quickly becoming friends. Honestly, the stuff those two get up to."

 

"Teddy and Victorie, huh? So a Weasley and a metamorphus? Hogwarts has a lot coming to them." Bill snorted.

 

"Poor old Minnie, had enough trouble with the rest of us. Got a whole new generation of Weasley's. Did Ron tell you about Hermione's ultrasound?"

 

"Ah, no, they had to reschedule it. Duty calls and all that." Harry joked.

 

"Oh yeah, our department almost got called in. Some dirty stuff. Thought they might need a curse breaker, turns out they were wrong about that."

 

"Big surprise." And then Harry thinks back to that morning. "Do you know a Blaise Zabini?"

 

Bill looks surprised. "Yes, I do. Blaise is one of my best. He helps develop curse-breaking items. Very good, that one. Why do you ask?"

 

"Oh, no reason. I just saw him this morning. Seems nice."

 

"Yeah, he is. Used to be friendly with that Parkinson girl and -" Bill cuts himself off, looking at Harry questionably. Harry mentally sighed. They could talk about Draco around him, they had all eventually found out about fifth year. He wasn't going to break if they said his name.

 

"Draco, I know. I had just never spoken to him personally."

 

"Uncle Harry, look!" Victorie toddled back into the room, a white dragon scale in her hand. The conversation between Bill and Harry is over.

 

* * *

 

 

Dinner at the Weasley's was fun. It made him remember old times. The Weasley's were family, through and through.

 

He hadn't had much to tell them, but they had had lots to tell him. Arthur had found out the use of a toaster, after being confused about why muggles didn't just light a fire, since they couldn't use magic. Bill had just solved a particular tricky curse involving two rogue vampires and an ancient blood oath. Fleur had just received a promotion and was one step away from head of Magical Creatures Protection Department. Dominique had learnt to count to twenty and Louis was able to count to twelve. Victorie was doing a project on dragons with Teddy Lupin as her partner, with help from her Uncle Charlie.

 

He took the muggle way to Grimmauld Palace, taking in the chill night air as he walked home. It was a cloudless night, the stars winking down at him. He stares up at the sky and thinks of his Godfather. Sirius. The Dog Star. Up there somewhere, watching over him. That's what he likes to think, anyway.

 

His mind is still thinking of his godfather and motorbikes when Grimmauld appears. He unlocks the door, takes one step inside and knows that something is wrong. He can't pinpoint exactly what, but there is an odd feeling in the air. It feels like his wards have been torn through, but not enough to notice from a distance. He takes another step foward, breathing shallowly through his mouth. He lets the front door shut quietly behind him. He takes another step, and almost jumps out of his skin when Dragon chirps across the hall.

 

Dragon flaps her wings upwards, as if to say _upstairs, go up._ Or maybe she was warning him against going up. Either way, whatever lied upstairs would answer his questions.

 

The thought of maybe calling for back-up crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Back-up would take too long. It would be too loud, as well, easily lurking whatever lurked upstairs.

 

Silently taking the stairs two at the time, he cursed himself for not having his invisibility cloak on him. This would be so much easier.

 

He reached the landing, and knew instantly which room was not empty. The door to Regulus Black's old bedroom was cracked open. The shield was propped up against the wall, and he grabbed it.

 

Wand and shield held defensively in front of him, Harry eased the door open. Whatever he had been expecting to find, it certainly wasn't Kingsley Shaklebolt, sitting, bruised and battered on Regulus's old bed.

 

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked. He lowered his wand, but kept the shield up.

 

"My wife, she kicked me out," Shaklebolt moved stiffly as he eased his wand from its holster, using it to write letters in the air.

 

_Eyes everywhere_

 

Harry frowned slightly, but other than that didn't make any sign that he'd read the words.

 

_Ministry compromised_

 

Harry inhaled sharply.

 

"Who else knows about your wife?"

 

"Just my friends."

 

_You and me_

 

"Is that what we are?" He asked, not able to keep the bitterness from his voice.

 

"That's up to you," Shaklebolt paused, then opened his mouth, but whatever he was going to say was cut off by a loud bang. The window to the left of the bed shattered, and Shaklebolt collapsed to the floor, wheezing in pain. Harry stepped forward, shield raised, seeing a figure on one of the other rooftops.

 

Shaklebolt grabbed his loosely by his jeans. "Don't. Trust. Anyone." He gasped out, pressing something into Harry's hand. Harry dragged him behind the bed, shielding him from view.

 

 _"Expecto Patronum!"_ Harry yelled as he ran to the window. A silver stag shot from his wand, before vanishing into the air. Shaklebolt would get help. Now he just had to find whoever shot him.

 

He scrambled out of the window, ignoring the way the glass sliced into the soft flesh of his hands. Swinging himself up onto the rooftop, he saw the shadow leaping from house in front of him.

 

He ran after the shadow, chasing him over the rooftops until Harry saw that there was nowhere for the shadow to go.

 

Harry furiously tossed the shield at him, expecting the figure to crumple under its force. Instead, shocking Harry into silence, the shadow reached up and grabbed it from the air, tossing it back to him almost casually.

 

The shadow then leapt from the building, onto the street below. Harry ran to the edge, expecting to see a flicker of something, but there was nothing. The figure had melted into the shadows. He could smell the burn of Apparition.

 

The figure was masked, and Harry couldn't see his face at all. The one distinguishing feature was the figure's arm - it was metal.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments or kudos if you like this fic!!

She pushed through the doors of St Mungos, waving her wand to adjust the wards to her presence. She walked calmly through the endless white corridors, smiling confidently at the Mediwitches and Mediwizards. She knew how to play them. Act like you belonged, and you find they'll accept you.

 

Her composure cracked slightly as she pushed through the final door, almost running to the window, which was actually a double sided mirror.

 

On the other side Kingsley Shaklebolt lay surrounded by frantic doctors, covered in his own red blood. The wounds were gaping and slightly horrific, even given what she had seen in her time as an agent. They seemed to be opening up wider with every second.

 

"What spell is that?" She asked no one in particular. Granger looked sideways at her, Weasley at her side. Potter stood slightly away from them, seemingly oblivious to anything but the Minister.

 

"They don't know. It's not a recognised spell." Her voice sounds croaky, and Pansy hopes to Salazar that she doesn't start sobbing.

 

She doesn't want to lose her mask in front of these strangers.

 

"They couldn't trace the magic to a wand, could they? They could only find the location of where it was performed." She closed her eyes, silently praying that Granger would tell her she was wrong. Instead, Granger just nods.

 

Sometimes she hates knowing things she shouldn't.

 

There's a small shout from the other side of the glass, and the Mediwitches and Mediwizards begin to desparately give orders, moving so fast that she can't keep track of what they're doing. Although she can't do that, she can easily recognise the despair in their eyes and body language. She knows what comes next.

 

"Don't do this to me, Kingsley." She prays aloud, lightly pressing one hand up against the glass.

　

Three minutes later the British Minster of Magic Kingsley Shaklebolt, is pronounced dead.

 

* * *

 

 

It feels like losing.

 

He had wondered, in the dark corner of his mind, what losing the war would of been like. He knew he would be dead, so would Hermione and Ron, and the rest of Dumbledore's Army and the Order. They would've most likely died horrible, slow deaths.

 

And that was why he had deliberately not dwelled on the thought of losing. He had never dwelled on the 'what if's'.

 

But this, Kingsley's death, it feels like losing. And it feels bitter. And it feels wrong.

 

He glances sideways at Hermione and Ron. Ron is holding Hermione, and Harry can see the effort she's making to not break down in tears. Harry keeps swallowing, taking deep breaths through his nose, and he can hear Ron doing the same.

 

He glances from his friends to Pansy Parkinson. She's just standing there, completely still and completely stoic. And then she turns on her heel and storms from the room.

 

Harry's finds himself following her without thinking.

 

"Pansy!" He calls after her, making a couple of men in Auror robes look over to them. He quickly recognises them as Ernie MacMillan and Adrian Pucey. He grasped at the sleeve of her jacket.

 

"What was Shaklebolt doing in your apartment?" She turned furiously fast, dark eyes staring straight through him.

 

"I don't know." Harry lied lamely.

 

"You're a terrible liar, Potter." Pansy tugged her sleeve from his grip, turning towards the Auror's.

 

He almost jumped out of his skin when a hand clapped him on his shoulder. Ron pulled him into a one-sided hug.

 

"We have to get back, Rosie needs us. But listen, Harry, if you need us, firecall or floo us immediatly. We'll be there." Ron says, patting Harry's back. In all honesty, Ron doesn't need to say it. Harry knows he'll always find a home with the Granger-Weasley's.

 

"Yeah, I know. Tell Rosie uncle Harry says hello." Harry says as Hermione takes his hand and squeezes it. She doesn't say anything, just looks at him with tearful eyes, and Harry understands.

 

When they've gone, Harry fiddles with the flashdrive in his trouser pocket. He didn't tell any of the Auror's who questioned him about it, not even Hermione and Ron. Whilst he had no idea what it contained, he did know that he couldn't be caught with it.

 

"Excuse me, sir." A man politely moved around Harry to unlock the vending machine. The man opened the vending machine and began stocking it back up.

 

Harry stared at it. It was a stupid idea, but it was an idea nonetheless.

 

* * *

 

 

Four days after Kingsley Shaklebolt's death, not much had changed. He knew that lots of things would be changing, the Wizarding World did not take assassinations lightly.

 

He had been on forced paid leave until they investigated Shaklebolt's death further. He was frustrated about being forced out, although he did understand why. He would've thought it looked suspicious too if the positions were swapped.

 

He didn't really do much in those four days. He babysat Teddy once, the blue-haired boy had been estatic to see him. Andromeda had told Harry that she had had an urgent meeting, and simply had no one else to ask. Harry hadn't believed her. He thought that she had asked him simply to distract him. It  had worked at the time, but then after he still had nothing to do.

 

So he had floo'd to Hermione and Ron's. Ron hadn't been forced on paid leave, but he had taken too weeks off work anyway. They had rescheduled Hermione's ultrasound for the week after. Rose Granger-Weasley had been so excited to tell 'uncle' Harry that she was getting a brother or a sister, and Harry had played along, acting a though he had no idea Hermione was pregnant. Rose must've noticed that he was brooding, because she made a tea party for him and Princess Cupcake, her favourite teddy bear. Children were sweet like that.

 

He had been wandering around the more magical areas of London when he just happened to walk into a therapy group. He had recognised a few faces, such as Hannah Abbot and Terry Boot, but didn't greet them. He stood alone at the back of the room, watching as Blaise Zabini spoke to the group.

 

"Some stuff we leave behind, and some stuff we don't. The reality is that this is life now, that Voldemort and his supporters are long dead, even if we're still fighting them in more quieter ways."

 

"I nearly strangled my boyfriend in my sleep," Hannah admitted aloud. "I was dreaming about seventh year, the Carrows reign, when they were torturing children. I was half asleep and heard breathing next to me and freaked out big time."

 

Blaise nodded somberly. "You will find some things hard to come to terms with. What the Carrows did was horrific, so don't blame yourself for freaking out."

 

After the session was over, Harry lingered as the others left. Blaise noticed him.

 

"Saw you standing at the back there, Potter." He said.

 

"You sounded like quite the therapist."

 

Blaise smiled broadly. "Yeah, I know. After the war I had a few therapists and thought I wanted to be one to. Turns out I didn't, but it still comes in handy."

 

"It was a good session. Hearing other people talk openly about everything..." Harry trailed off. Blaise clapped him on the shoulder.

 

"You bottle it up, don't you? It's never a good idea to do that. At the start of the new world, we all did, until we realised it wasn't doing us any good."

 

Harry talked with Blaise for over an hour, not even realising how quick time had passed. As he left Blaise called after him;

 

"The offer of drinks is still open, Potter!"

 

On the fifth day he had recieved a letter from an owl he didn't recognise. The letter asked him to attend a private meeting at the ministry with Alastair Pryor. Harry had heard a lot about Pryor over his years as an Auror. He had been good friends with Kingsley Shaklebolt, and had stood with him on almost all of his political decisions. Pryor was also secretary for the Wizarding Security council. The Wizarding Security council was set up after the war, and though Harry knew that Minerva McGonagall and Karkaroff were on it, he had absolutely no idea who else it consisted of. Even the boy who lived didn't have that level security pass.

 

The letter had advised Harry to come in full Auror robes, including the shield, as to not look suspicious. Which was why Harry was now being led into Alastair Pryor's office at ten am sharp. Harry waits until Angelica has excused herself before speaking.

 

"Sir," Harry holds out his hand to shake. Pryor takes his hand in a firm grip and pumps it three times. "It's an honour." And he means it.

 

Pryor smiles wanly. "Mr Potter, the honour is all mine. Shall we get down to business?"

 

Pryor shuffles through an envelope on his desk, pulling out a photo and passing it to Harry.

 

The photo showed a black man in Auror robes greeting a younger Pryor, who was wearing formal dress robes. They looked to be at some sort of conference.

 

"That was when I first met Kingsley, eight years ago. That picture was taken just before the war officially started."

 

"Explains the robes." Harry commented. Pryor nodded.

 

"Kingsley Shaklebolt was a dear friend of mine, Mr Potter. In fact, I have been behind him on every single political tactics and the missions he organised. I've never had any reason to doubt him."

 

He sits on one of the lush couches and gestures for Harry to sit opposite. He does.

 

"Kingsley was the one who gave me the job as Secretary. As he has... passed, and the only other British member of the council is currently Headmistress at Hogwarts, most of the decision making comes down to me. Which is why I'm choosing to show you this."

 

Pryor waves his wand and a screen on the opposite wall flickers into life. The man who had thrown a grenade at him and Parkinson is tied to a chair, in the direction of the camera. He can see bits and pieces of other Aurors too.

 

"They picked him up last night in a not so safe safehouse. He's likely suspect."

 

"What's his name?"

 

"Caslav Begolic. I doubt you've heard of him. He's a pureblood from Serbia. He was aiding Yaxley, who is still in our custody."

 

"Are you sure it's him?"

 

"Not one hundred percent, but like I said, it's possible. He was in the right place at the right time. And there's something else I wanted to talk to you about." Alastair waves his wand again and the screen goes black.

 

"People are talking about what happened on that rescue mission he sent you and Parkinson, they're saying he hired the hijackers."

 

Harry was bewildered. "Why would he hire pirates to take over his own ship?"

 

Alastair looked vaguely like he was pitying Harry. "He made a deal, it went wrong, so he hired Caslav and Yaxley to hijack his own ship. Probably intended to let them go after, but that clearly didn't work out."

 

"But that's just speculating!"

 

"Accio Shaklebolt's investigation files!" A thin file flew into Alastair's hands. He peeled it open and handed a piece of paper to Harry. Harry scanned over it.

 

_800000 Galleons =_

 

_Gringotts bank_

 

_Greene Family Account_

 

_Abigail Wood Personal Account_

 

_Regulus Black Personal Account_

 

_Jason Castun Personal Account_

 

_Wilson Family Account_

 

_Jacob Beech Personal Account_

 

"What does this mean?" Harry asked, eyes lingering on the name 'Regulus Black'.

 

"This is a list of all the accounts the money was passed through before it vanished, and later turned up in Begovic's account. All those people are dead, but Kingsley had a connection to all of them. Jacob Beech died six years ago, and he lived at thirteen Oaktree Road, when I first met Shaklebolt his mother lived at number seven."

 

"So? This still isn't hard proof."

 

"I know it isn't, Potter. There's one more bit of evidence which the Ministery has lost track of. A flashdrive with all the files concerning the hijacking was taken from the ship. Shaklebolt was the last person to of had it, as far as we know."

 

Harry nodded distantly, mind putting the puzzle pieces together. So that was what was on the flashdrive! But that meant Parkinson had to be linked to it. And why would Shaklebolt partner with a Death Eater? And then there was the mysterious masked assassin. Was he just some random person Begovic had hired to take Shaklebolt out for his failure?

 

The puzzle pieces almost made sense, but they lacked a motive. They lacked a 'why'. Why would Kingsley destroy his hard work? Why would Kingsley betray them like this? Why would Kingsley go completely against his morals? Why, why, why?

 

"And Potter, may I ask, what was Kingsley doing in your apartment that night?"

 

Harry suddenly blinked at Pryor, thrown off by the question. The 'I don't know' was on his lips before he thought better of it. Pryor never would except that as an answer.

 

"He told me not to trust anyone." He said truthfully. Prynor nodded.

 

"I wonder if that meant him, too."

 

* * *

 

 

He felt hundreds of eyes on him as he walked from Pryor's office to the elevator. Not the usual 'it's the boy who lived!' stares. These stares felt predatory. He kept constantly checking over his shoulder, convinced that someone was going to leapt at him with an Avada Kedavra.

 

He thought he might get some privacy in the elevator, but he was very wrong. Pucey, wearing his combat clothes, came in first.

 

"Potter," He greeted. Harry nodded in acknowledgement. They rode the elevator in silence until they stopped at the second floor, where three other members of the strike team got in, nodding to Harry. Harry recognised them as Graham Pritchard, Malcolm Wares, and Dmitry Chenkov. They stopped at the next floor and four other strike members entered. Harry didn't bother to try to remember their names; he was too focused on Pucey.

 

The co-leader of the strike team was sweating profusedly, and his hands twitched at his sides. Harry looked at the others, and saw they were mimicking Pucey. It was then Harry realised that he was surrounded, flanked on every side. Oh. This was not going to end well.

 

"Before we get started," He said to Pucey, "does anyone want to get out?"

 

And then all hell broke lose.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is such a short chapter ik, but im hopefully going to make the next one longer.

_"How the hell did I get into this situation?"_ Was a question that Harry had found himself pondering rather a lot over the years. Suddenly appearing on the roof of his old school after being chased by Dudley Dursley, being told he was a wizard, doing a detention in the Forbidden Forest, fighting a Basilisk, being in the Triwizard Tournament, dueling the dark lord. A

 

And of course, surviving an assassination attack from his own men. Not something one expects on a Monday morning. Or any morning, really.

 

Harry kicks Pritchard in the crotch, noting with some satisfication that he goes down with a groan. Pritchard was the last man standing.

 

Harry kicks Pucey in the face, knowing that he must have orcastrated this with Pryor. He usually has a rule against kicking unconscious people in the face, but aren't rules made to be broken?

 

The elevator chimes to a stop. Part of Harry knows before the doors even open what is going to be be on the other side. Harry Apparates as he catches sight of another group of high ranking Aurors, wands drawn at him.

 

He apparates to the flooing area, but avoids the fireplaces. It would be so easy to simply floo away, and it would also be very easy for the Ministry to track him.

 

So no, he doesn't use the floo. Instead he pushes and shoves his way through the crowd. Most of them let his part easily, seeing a bloodied Harry Potter is never a good sign. Few of them stop to stare. Harry simply ignores them.

 

He has a location set in mind, deciding not to Apparate there. Whilst he is in the Ministry they can track the magical trace left over from Disapparating.

 

He hears a shout of his name behind him and knows they've caught sight of him. He turns quickly and sees Pucey, bruised and battered, gaining on him, with two young wizards that he doesn't recognise.

 

Deciding that it didn't matter if the Ministry traced him, Harry Disapparated away from the floos.

 

His feet touched the floor of the garage, and Harry threw himself towards a motorbike, tearing off the protective cover.

 

The motorbike was his, made up from one of Sirius's old ones. It had been cleaned and was now a sparkling silver, not a rusty grey. Harry didn't use it very often for fear of getting it dirty, but desparate times call for desparate measures.

 

He throws himself over the motorbike, spelling the garage open. The mortorbike roars as he speeds out of the garage, falling for a few seconds until he hits the muggle street below. To the muggles, it would look like nothing happened, they would think he had always been there.

 

Harry knew the laws of muggle driving, but at this moment he really couldn't give a crap. He swerfed in and out of cars, not daring to look over his shoulder.

 

"HARRY POTTER!" Harry recognised the voice of Adrian Pucey. He grabbed his shield, preparing to throw it."STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING IMMEDIATLY! YOU ARE UNDER ARREST-" He threw the shield at Pucey's broom. It slammed into his chest, causing him to slip from the broom and fall into the traffic below.

 

Harry called the shield back to him, not bothering to check if more Ministery agents were following him.

 

He already knew they would be, Pryor wouldn't give up easily.

 

* * *

 

 

He zipped up his hoodie as he walked into St Mungos, keeping his head bowed. No one gave him a second glance as he made his way up to the second floor, almost breaking into a jog when he saw the vending machine.

 

Harry looked in the slot for Strawberry Bubblegum, and found it was empty. His eyes met his own in the reflection of the glassas he heard a _pop!_ behind him.

 

Harry didn't bother to check for Healers as he grabbed Pansy Parkinson by the scruff of her hoodie and pushed her into a storage closet. He pushed her against the wall, pinning her there.

 

"Where is it?" He asked angrily.

 

"Safe. Why did you have it?" Harry said nothing as she raked her eyes over his face. "Shaklebolt give it to you. Why?" Harry was holding her hard enough to bruise, and refused to loosen his grip.

 

"Why do you-?"

 

"I know who killed Shaklebolt," She interrupted with such certaintly that Harry blinked at her, loosenig his grip without realising. "Most of the Wizarding intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Wizard. He's credited for over over two dozen assassinations in the last ten years." She explained.

 

"So he's a ghost story," Harry counted.

 

"Five years ago I was escorting a muggleborn hostage out of Iran, somebody shot at my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went over a cliff, I pulled us out, but the Winter Wizard was there. I was covering the girl, so he shot her, straight through me." She lifted her shirt to show Harry a bullet wound scar on her stomach, near her hip.

 

"A muggle bullet, enhanced with magic. Untraceable. Bye-bye bikinis."

 

"Bet you look terrible in them now," Harry said sarcastically. Whilst Pansy had answered his questions about Shaklebolt's killer - if he believed her, that was - she had only formed new ones about what in the world Pansy Parkinson had done after the war.

 

"Going after him is a dead end. I know, I've tried. Like you said, he's a ghost story," she continued.

 

Harry dropped his hands away from Pansy and ran a hand through his scruffy hair.

 

"Well, let's find out what the ghost wants."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mention of murder-suicide and swearing.

"First step of going on the run is don't run, walk." Pansy muttered as she and Harry walked side-by-side through the muggle shopping centre Pansy had insisted they come to. Pansy was going to find a muggle Apple Store or something of the same sort, and find out where the homing device would send them to.

 

Harry scuffed his feet in his too-large shoes. It was part of his disguise, but he felt like a child borrowing Dudley's clothes again. "If I run in these shoes they're gonna fall off."

 

* * *

 

 

Harry watched as Pansy plugged the flashdrive into the tablet. He was surprised she was so familiar with using muggle technology - though he supposed he shouldn't of been, it had been seven years since the war, after all.

 

Harry kept an eye out for anyone suspicious. He didn't really need to, it would be obivous to spot part of the STRIKE team, as wizards were easy to spot. But still. It didn't hurt to be vigilant.

 

Godric, he was starting to sound like Mad-Eye Moody.

 

He spared one last look around the room before turning to Pansy. "What are you doing exactly?" He asked as she plugged the flashdrive into the side of a tablet and began tapping. She didn't look up as she answered.

 

"Trying to override the security. Shaklebolt was right about that ship, someone's trying to hide something. The AI keeps trying to throw me out."

 

"Can you override it?" And then he realised what she had said. "AI? Isn't that a muggle thing?"

 

Harry saw Pansy smirk in the reflection of the tablet. "After the war, the wizarding world slowly started to use muggle technology more. Thought you would've known that, being Harry Potter and all."

 

Harry ignored the jab and instead asked again. "Can it be overridden?"

 

Pansy glanced back at him for a second. "The person who made this was slightly smarter than me. _Slightly_."

 

"Maybe I should run a tracer." She muttered as she subtly removed her wand from her jacket pocket. "If I can't read the file then we should be able to trace it..." Making to see no muggles saw, she waved her wand and quickly continued typing.

 

Harry went back to surverying the room. He saw a man in the shop uniform approach them and froze momentarily.

 

"Um, Hello? Can I help you guys with anything?" The man asked.

 

Before Harry could answer himself Pansy wrapped her arm around his shoulders and squeezed.

 

"Oh, me and my fiancee are just looking for some honeymoon destinations!" She giggled.

 

"Right. We're getting married." He cringed at how bad his lie was. The man, however, didn't seem to notice.

 

"Congratulations. So, where you guys thinking of going?"

 

Harry glanced at the screen, which was now showing a map of England. A red dot was marked near Milton Keynes.

 

"Bletchley." He read.

 

The man nodded. "Oh, I've been there. Nice place. War museum is good."

 

"Yeah, that's where we where thinking of going." Harry lied, having no idea what the man was talking about.

 

"Well, if you guys need anything, I'm Aaron."

 

"Yeah, thanks." Aaron wandered off.

 

Pansy clicked her tongue. "Got it."

 

* * *

 

 

Harry and Pansy walked close together through the shopping centre, both constantly glancing left and right.

 

"STRIKE team is here. Two up top, two to the left and two coming straight at us."

 

"Who's coming this way?"

 

"I think it's Pucey."

 

"Pucey's an idiot." Pansy growled. "Shut up and put your arm around me. Laugh at something I said."

 

Harry laughed, pulling Pansy in close. Pucey barely glanced at them.

 

They were on the escalator when Pansy spun around to stare up at Harry.

 

"Kiss me." She demanded.

 

Harry blinked. "Excuse me?" He asked, wondering if he was going deaf.

 

"Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable."

 

"Yes, they do." Harry agreed. Pansy rolled her eyes before reaching up to tug him down to her height, before pressing her lips to his. As she did so, Harry noticed Pucey on the escalator opposite, going up.

 

They stayed kissing awkwardly until Pucey had passed them, looking at them for only a second before turning away in disgust. Or, Harry thought that was what it had been.

 

"Still uncomfortable?" Pansy muttered uncomfortably as they broke apart.

 

"That's not exactly what I'd call it." He said, even more uncomfortable.

　

Which was how he found himself stealing some unfortunate muggle's Land Rover and driving to Bletchley with Pansy Parkinson as his passenger.

 

"Why is it Bletchley, there's nothing signicant about it," Harry wondered out loud. He was trying to keep his mind off other things, like how Ron and Hermione would react when they found out a was a fugitive. He prayed to Godric Gryffindor's ghost that they wouldn't put themselves in danger for him.

 

"Well, Bletchley was where they did muggle decoding during the war. Something to do with an Enigma maching, Alan Turing was his name, if I remember correctly." Pansy said.

 

"Muggle decoding?" Harry raised his eyebrow.

 

"Something like that. World war two. The flashdrive is directing us to somewhere near the museum, most likely hidden from muggles."

 

"How'd you know about World War Two?" Harry was trying to ound casual, but really was fishing for information about what Pansy Parkinson had gotten up to after the war.

 

"There was a film about it. A nineties film. Pretty interesting."

 

"Oh,"

 

"Now, can I ask you something?"

 

"Go ahead,"

 

"What your first kiss since 1995? Because I feel like it was." Pansy snickered, though not cruelly. It felt like the kind of thing he would joke about with Hermione.

 

"No, that was not my first kiss since 1995!" He vehemently denied.

 

"Really? 'Cause it felt like you needed practise."

 

"I do not need practise!" He argued lightly.

 

"Everyone needs practise." She insisted. Harry saw the oppurtunity to turn to back on her.

 

"What about you? Do you need practise?"

 

Pansy's snickering stopped, but her faint smile remained. "Eh, dating isn't my thing." She answered vaguely. "What about you? After Draco, I mean?"

 

"It's kind of difficult to find someone with shared life experiences."

 

Pansy stared at him. "We were all in the war, Potter."

 

"Yeah, I know. But it's just, there are a lot of things that happened that the public doesn't know about, and never will."

 

"What about muggles?"

 

Harry snorted. "I hardly doubt they would have similar life experiences."

 

Pansy shrugged. "I don't know, just make something up."

 

"What, like you?"

 

"Truth is a matter of circumstance."

 

Harry studied her for a second before turning his eyes back to the road. "It's a tough way to live."

 

Pansy turned to stare out of the window at the passing scenery.

 

"It's a good way not to die, though."

 

Instead of answering questions, it only made Harry more curious about what Pansy had done after the fall of the Dark Lord.

 

* * *

 

 

It was dark by the time they reached Bletchley, and before they could fine the exact location they had to drive around looking for a place hidden from muggles. They had found it after nearly an hour, two miles from the war museum.

 

"Someone has a weird sense of humour." Pansy commented as she waved her wand, looking for life signs.

 

Harry had taken his miniture shield from his pocket, where he had put it after shrinking it, and enlarged it again. It was a comforting weight in his hands.

 

Pansy sighed loudly. "There's nothing. No life signs, this place is dead."

 

Harry stared across at one of the buildings. It was separated from the rest, and Harry felt that it was out of place. He walked over to it, Pansy on his heels.

 

"What is it?" She queried, as Harry slammed his shield down on the lock, effectively snapping the metal in two.

 

"This building is apart from the others. It wouldn't hurt to check it out."

 

He pulled the door open.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry looked around the room. It looked like a meeting room, of sorts. There was a long table down the middle of the room, with desks bolted to the walls. Harry squinted and saw pictures on the back wall, next to a statue of a bird.

 

He let Pansy make her own discoveries about the room and went over to look at the pictures. His breath caught in his throat as he realised who they were.

 

A beautiful red-haired woman was in one photo, and in another was a man that resembled Harry. Harry read the captions underneath the pictures.

 

Lily Potter (30th January 1960 - 31st October 1981)

 

James Potter (27th March 1960 - 31st October 1981)

 

Harry tore his eyes away from his parent's pictures and forced himself to look at the others. There was one of Albus and Abeforth Dumbledore, Alice and Frank Longbottom, Elphias Doge, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin - and then Harry realised that this must of been some kind of base for the First Order of the Phoenix.

 

But if so, why didn't he know about it? Why would they keep it from him?

 

"Lily Potter? James Potter?" Pansy interrupted his train of thought. "Aren't they -"

 

"Yeah." Harry muttered, turning around.

 

As he walked away he suddenly felt a chill. He stopped and stared. Pansy didn't seem to notice, still looking over the pictures. He took a step forwards, and the chill feeling vanished. He stepped backwards and it returned. It was coming from an empty bookcase, Harry realised. There was a tiny gap from where it met the wall. Harry pushed his hands into the gap and shoved the bookcase as hard as he could. It came away from the wall entirely, falling to the floor with a thump.

 

"Ever so subtle, Potter." Pansy said as she turned down the short corridor that the bookcase had been hiding.

 

"That's my speciality." He quipped. "So, if you have a secret office, why do you need a secret door?"

 

"Let's find out. _Alohomora!_ "

 

The door unlocked, and Pansy kicked it open the whole way.

 

Harry and Pansy glanced around the room they were in. It was almost empty, except from desk in the middle of the room.

 

"This can't be what we're looking for. There's nothing here." Pansy murmured to herself. She looked at the table and noticed a USB port. Strange, that it would be so muggle, and so modern. "Here goes nothing." She pushed in it.

 

The room sprang to life instantly. The lights flickered on, and a whirring noise vibrated throughout the room. Harry looked but couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

 

"Shall we play a game?" Pansy grinned. "It's from a muggle movie-"

 

"-Yeah, I saw it." He found it odd that she knew so much about the muggle world.

 

"Good evening." A smooth, rich voice said in an English accent. It was a voice that Harry knew all to well.

 

"What the _fuck_?" He shouted as he spun around, frantically searching for the owner of the voice.

 

"Who is it?!" Pansy said, looking around too.

 

"It's- It's fucking-"

 

"Such language. Honestly, do you kiss your mother like that-? Oh wait, I saw to that." Harry found himself staring into the eyes of Tom Riddle.

 

"You're dead!" He yelled.

 

"Quite so," He smirked. He looked exactly like he had in sixth year, right down to the Slytherin uniform he wore. As Harry gaped at him, Riddle's form flickered, and then became transparent.

 

"You're a ghost." Pansy said, glaring daggers at Riddle.

 

"Not quite," And then he tutted at her, "look at you, working with the Boy-Who-Lived! The great house of Salazar Slytherin is dead." He looked disgusted with her.

 

"You're dead, I _killed_ you," Harry repeated. Riddle rolled his eyes.

 

"I know. I was there."

 

"Then how are you here? Are you really just a ghost?"

 

"Not quite. I am a. . . how do I say it? An echo, perhaps. My physical form is long dead, you saw to that twice. After my death, my loyal followers brought me back as an echo, and now I reside here."

 

"You're trapped here," Pansy realised. "you can't ever leave. Must be boring."

 

"Oh, I have my fun. Especially with you, Potter."

 

"What the fuck does that mean?" Harry snarled.

 

"You think the war ended in 1998? Oh dear, oh dear." Tom Riddle's echo threw his head back and laughed. "The war has been raging for years, and I believe a winner is about to be announced."

 

"How? Your followers were put in Azkaban?"

 

"Not all of them were," Pansy reminded him. "If enough managed to trap his echo, then enough could of. . . But the Ministry would of stopped you!"

 

Tom chuckled. "The Ministry has been mine since long before the war ended. History was mine to mold, and when it didn't comply, history was changed. And I'm afraid that accidents happen." He waved his hand, and suddenly news articles floated around the room.

 

_"Abeforth Dumbledore dies of spell backfire!" June 11th, 2003._

 

_"Kingsley Shaklebolt murdered by muggles!" July 18th, 2005._

 

_"Draco Malfoy declared dead!" August 13th, 1995._

 

_"Lucius Malfoy murdered in own home!" October 31st, 1995_

 

_"Narcissa Malfoy- Insane!" November 2nd, 1995_

 

_"Harry Potter - A hero's send off!" July 24th, 2005_

 

_"Granger-Weasley's murder-suicide!" August 1st, 2005_

 

"How have you done this?!" Pansy exclaimed. Harry's head was reeling. All this time, he had been fighting for the wrong side after all.

 

"The explaination for that answer is fascinating, but I'm afraid you'll both be too dead to hear it."

 

Pansy waved her wand, and a digital map of the base appeared, with a red-dot getting closer and closer.

 

"Potter, we've got a _displodo!"_

 

"Who fired it?!"

 

"The Ministry!" She gasped.

 

Tom Riddle laughed once more before vanishing into thin air. Harry grabbed a metal grate from the floor and pulled it out, shoving Pansy in and raising the shield to protect them just as the building around them collapsed over them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The film Pansy refers to is "Breaking the Code" which came out in 1996 and is about Alan Turing decoding the famous Enigma machine at Bletchley Park- I haven't seen it, and am more familiar with the 2014 movie " The Imitation Game"
> 
> Displodo is the Latin word for explode, and I figured that wizards would still use Latin words for things.
> 
> The war museum is an actual place, where Alan Turing decoded the Enigma machine and shortened WW2 by two years, and it's very interesting. I would recommend it if you live near the area and like history.


	7. Chapter 7

I'm ending this fic as the plot isn't very good and I just don't like it in general. However I will be rewriting it with a better plot and will hopefully post it in a couple of weeks. Thank you to anyone who commented or gave me kudos.

New series: http://archiveofourown.org/series/781098


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